It had been exactly ten weeks since his entire life changed. Ten weeks since his wife was gunned down and killed. Ten weeks since he was shot and lost a good amount of mobility in his arm. Ten weeks since everything went to hell in a handbasket for him. Doctor Jonathan Grey was fifty shades of fucked up and sometimes, it showed through his hard outer shell. He had seen some shit and had been through it. Jon had seen a woman holding her dead husband’s hand after something went wrong in a surgery. He had held a woman’s intestines in is hands when she came into the ER complaining of a sore stomach. He had blood vomited on him and other bodily fluids, but nothing could have prepared him to have heard the shots fired. To have dragged himself to his wife’s body. Seeing her head… the damage.

Letting out a sigh as he rubbed his face, he looked back up at the therapist he was pretty much required to see. Leaning forward, he let his hand rest on his knees and he gave some lame bullshit answer to the man sitting across from him. It was the same crap every day. How he was feeling and how it made him feel. Was he okay? How bad was the PTSD? Were the nightmares still happening? All of these were questions that Jon had given the same answer to, and he wasn’t sure he could handle being in therapy anymore. Physically, he was almost fully healed. He needed one more surgery to fully fix the nerve damage in his hand and arm, but aside from that he was physically healed. Mentally though, he was not okay by far.

Jon was beginning to wonder if he would ever be okay again. The mental trauma he went through, god it was awful. He remembered laying in a pool of his own blood, staring at his dead wife’s still opened eyes. His hand within inches of hers. Gasping for breath, feeling the suffocation of the shock that ran through his body. The pain he felt in his side and the complete numbness in his arm. One of his nurses had found them, she had the brains to cover Melissa’s body with a sheet and she also held his hand. It was the only thing that helped him through it all, was having his favorite nurse with him. Kylee was her name, sweet little thing too. She was there for every surgery that he had performed on him and she was the one who would check up and in on him.

As he shoved his hands into his pockets as he made his way out of the office and out into the chilly air. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat and took one out, setting it between his lips before he lit it. Jon took a long drag on it before he blew the smoke out into the air. He leaned against the building as he closed his eyes. After he opened them again, he checked his watch. It was late afternoon, heading into the evening. Jon found himself walking towards a bar that he frequented before the shooting, before everything went to hell for him. He took one last drag on his cigarette before he put it out in the ash tray and tucked his lighter away as he walked inside.

It wasn’t the worst place in the world. It wasn’t a shabby old place, actually it was quite nice. He walked over to the bar and sat on a stool, ordering a coke and whiskey. He had thought about just doing shots all night, but that wouldn’t really solve much. Jon rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh. He started working again in the next couple of days and he was nervous as hell.

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tags; LUCIELLE GUNN
lyrics; tears for fears
words; 647
notes; boom.